


Wrong Number

by hungrybookworm



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Light Stalking References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrybookworm/pseuds/hungrybookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renko receives silent calls on her mobile phone, and tries to investigate the cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fic while listening to Adele's 'Hello'. But in the end, I don't think it resembles the song at all... oh well. This story's a bit mean... sorry everyone lol.
> 
> Also, I'm gonna restart 'In the Brilliant Light of Day' this Sunday (4th September) so hold onto your hats.

Renko put the lid back on her seal, half-crushed the divorce form with her hand, and threw it across the room. “There,” she snapped. “Happy?”

Her husband narrowed his eyes, and reached to pick the form up from the floor. It made Renko think of a dog owner picking up a turd with a plastic bag. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say anything. There was nothing more to talk about.

Renko had always hated that side of him. She leant back in her sofa, and returned her attention to the television. “Is that it?” she asked. “Anything else I need to stamp?”

“No,” he said.

“Then get out of my flat.”

There was a two second pause. Renko wondered if he was going to make a scene after all, but she heard him walk away, and open the front door to the flat. 

It banged shut, and she was finally alone. 

Her husband would deliver the form to the local council tomorrow morning, and then their marriage would finally be over. Renko cracked a smile. She felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. She was free. Free, at last! No more awkward silences in the mornings and evenings. No more passive-aggressiveness. No more arguments over who started what and who didn’t do what. Renko could do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted, and no one would care.

Renko Usami was forty-one years old, childless, and twenty-four hours away from her first divorce. She considered walking down to the local convenience store and buying some booze to celebrate. Tomorrow was a Saturday, so she could drink as much as she liked. Maybe she could spend the afternoon wandering around somewhere. And Sunday was a big blank canvas, just waiting to be filled. And next weekend too, and the weekend after that…

The phone rang.

Renko frowned, her good mood spoilt. Her mobile was sitting on the side table, charging. It only rang for two reasons: her ex-mother-in-law wanted to yell at her, or someone wanted to sell her something. It was too late in the evening for cold calling, so that left only one option. Renko got up, and picked it up. If it was her mother-in-law, then now was a good time to finally block her number.

But her phone displayed a private number.

Odd. Maybe someone was calling her by mistake. Renko swiped the answer button, then put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello, who’s this?”

There was a clack, and the call ended. 

Renko stared at her phone in disbelief. Did an automated cold calling machine mess up and send her a silent call? It wasn’t unheard of, but at eleven-pm at night? Maybe it was a wrong number after all. Renko didn’t know anyone who enjoyed making prank calls, and her husband’s family were too short-tempered to try and freak her out by saying nothing. And she didn’t know any potential stalkers, so who could it be?

Renko sighed, and placed her phone back on its recharge pad.

The news was on television. War, politics, how the yen was faring against the dollar. A bunch of middle-aged women were being interviewed about their shopping habits. The weather forecast predicated bright, sunny skies across Tokyo all weekend. It was the same in Kyoto too. Renko had never lost the habit of looking at Kyoto first when the map appeared.

The phone rang again.

Renko snatched it off the table. A private number, again? She thought about rejecting the call, but changed her mind at the last minute. Maybe last time had been a mistake, and the caller would talk to her this time. “Hello?”

Silence again.

“Umm… are you a real person, or just a machine?”

The caller hung up.

*****  
Maribel Hearn went missing twenty years ago.

Renko could remember the day perfectly, as though no time had passed at all. She’d woken up at eight-am, and found Merry’s side of the bed empty. There was no sign of her in the house, and Renko couldn’t find her on campus. None of their few mutual friends had seen her, and Renko’s frantic phone calls and messages were never answered.

She was put on the missing persons list a week later.

A week turned into a month, which turned into a year. Merry’s parents flew over, and tried to help the police look for her. But no one could find Maribel Hearn. She didn’t even appear in Renko’s dreams.

Renko graduated alone.

She couldn’t bear to be in Kyoto without Merry, so Renko returned to Tokyo. She picked up her old, pre-university life, and spent her days applying for jobs. She got one, in a car manufacturing company, and spent at much time as she could in the office.

Five years passed. Ten. Fifteen.

Maribel was the only girl she ever dated. Renko went out with a string of men over the years, and her workaholism ended all but one of her relationships. She married the man who stuck around, because there was no reason not to. He earned a lot of money, and wasn’t violent or nasty. That’s all Renko really wanted.

But that didn’t work out either. They had nothing in common, once the initial attraction wore off. And here Renko was, five years on and relieved it’d ended now and not after they’d had children, or a mortgage, or something permanent that required a lawyer to sort out.

Now Renko could spend all night filming tombstones in a graveyard, and no-one would care.

*****  
The phone calls continued all week, several times a day. Renko tried to block them, but it didn’t work. If she rejected them, the caller would ring her every five minutes until she picked up. She couldn’t leave her phone off for work reasons, and what if her mother called her, with a family emergency? It was the only reason she didn’t just chuck the thing into a river.

She hadn’t changed her number in over twenty years. It could be anyone.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“Stop phoning me all the time!”

“I’ve already called the police, so just give it up.”

Not that the police were any help. They couldn’t track the caller, and didn’t feel the need to investigate further, as Renko had received no threats or scary messages.

“You should change your phone number,” said the policemen, with a sigh. “If they continue after that, you’ll know it’s someone in your social circle.”

But Renko didn’t want to change her number. Merry was still logged in her contacts list. She hadn’t tried calling her phone in a long, long time, but it represented the tiny hope she held that Merry was out there somewhere, still alive and trying to get home.

Assuming Merry still had Renko’s number too.

*****  
The next call came on a Wednesday night. Renko was washing up when the phone rang, and had to tug a rubber glove off to prevent thick, soapy suds wrecking her phone. A private number again. Renko decided to get tonight’s harassment out of the way. “Hello?”

Silence.

Renko was silent too.

And just this once, the caller didn’t hang up. Renko strained her ears, trying to find a clue to the caller’s identity. They stayed silent for over a minute.

A thought came over Renko. It was an absurd idea, and it made a bead of sweat drip down the back of her neck. It seemed obvious, really. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her before. She had to know. This could be her only chance.

Quietly, as though speaking to a child, Renko began to talk.

“Merry… is that you?”

Silence.

Renko’s hands shook. “Please, Merry… if it’s you, you need to tell me. Don’t… sit in silence like this. Let me know it’s you. Please…” She sniffed. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much, Merry…”

And Renko heard a whisper at the end of the line.

“…Renko, help me…”

The call ended.


End file.
